


Saints Without A Cause

by kadaransmuggler



Series: rise in perfect light [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, F/M, M/M, Modern Boy in Thedas, Modern Character in Thedas, Modern Girl in Thedas, Sex Work, Tags May Change, Trans Male Character, Trans character written by trans author, also everyone is queer, like super divergent, nobody is straight thanks for coming to my tedtalk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2019-10-23 07:21:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17678987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kadaransmuggler/pseuds/kadaransmuggler
Summary: Some are born great. Some achieve greatness. And some just want to go back to bed.





	1. it's five o'clock somewhere

Outside, a car horn beeps. Sam Alvarez scrambles, scooping papers into his backpack. “I’m fuckin’ coming,” he grouses, mostly under his breath. He couldn’t blame his brother for being impatient- they were leaving nearly thirty minutes later than they were supposed to. And he had told Noah to go to the car nearly ten minutes ago now. It wasn’t the kid’s fault he didn’t have his shit together.

  
“That’s what you said last night,” Sammy mumbles, passing him on her way into the kitchen. Though it was nearly five in the evening, she’d just woken up.

  
“It was this morning, actually, and I should have made you go to class instead of laying out to sleep,” he tells her, double-checking to make sure he has everything important in his bag. He had no less than three papers due that week- sometimes he wondered why he’d bothered to do this to himself. He made a mental note to stop on the way home tomorrow and pick up some more coffee.

  
“But I looked so peaceful laying there,” she says, pouting at him before breaking into a grin. He rolls his eyes, reaching around her for his house keys. She usually nagged him for having his car keys on a separate chain- she must have been groggy if she wasn’t mentioning it.

  
“I’ve gotta go, Noah’s waiting,” he says. She waves him off, leaning forward to smack his ass as he passes around her. He flips her off over his shoulder as he steps onto the porch, patting his pockets to make sure he had his wallet and his phone. He looked up in time to see Noah leaning into the driver’s seat to slam on the horn once more.  
“Jesus, kid,” Sam mumbles, jogging to the car and sliding in. He tosses his backpack into the backseat.

  
“You took forever,” Noah moans, dramatically drooping down in his seat. Sam twists around as he backs up. He still hated the shitty narrow driveway at Sammy’s house, even after all the time he spent there. There was a dent on his bumper where he’d repeatedly introduced it to the rock sitting on the bank.

  
“What, you got a time clock to punch? We’ll still beat Dad home, you got all your homework done, and I fed you at her house. Text him, by the way, let him know we’re on our way,” he says, easing the car into drive before tearing down the long and twisting driveway. He reached over to flick the radio on, music crackling through the speakers. This station was always full of static until he reached the end of the driveway.

  
“Yeah, but I wanted to play video games before bed. You know I just got that new one,” Noah whines, but he obediently slides his phone out and taps out a message to their father.

  
“Dude, c’mon. Listen to the radio. It’s five o’clock somewhere, and that somewhere happens to be here. You’ve got plenty of time,” Sam says, settling into his seat and rolling the window down. It was fall, and nearly too cold for that, but Sam never let that stop him. He was still wearing basketball shorts to school even when the mornings were cold enough to make the hair on his legs stand up. He shifts again in his seat, reaching down to adjust his packer. It’d slipped until it was just this side of uncomfortable.

  
“C’mon, Sam. You know that joke is never funny,” Noah complains, resting his head against the window and watching the trees go by.

  
“And yet I will continue to make it whenever I can,” he tells him. Noah groans, and reaches down to turn the volume up.

  
Song after song slips through the speakers, until they reach the red light that marks the beginning of the trip home. Sam looks over at Noah for a brief second, eyes flicking back to the road. He pumps the brakes and the car doesn’t slow down.

  
“Shit,” he swears, sitting up in his seat. He presses down more insistently with his foot, but it doesn’t do anything. He slams his hand on the horn, one arm flying out to hold Noah into the seat just as the world explodes in broken glass. 

* * *

Sam drifts. The darkness is a confusing swirl of green tinted memories, all of them slipping through his fingers like sand in an hour glass. He only catches flashes- a brown-haired girl with blue marks on her face, laughing over her shoulder at him. A dark-skinned man, dreadlocks pulled back away from his face and pinned in place with a fragment of a wolf's skull, tall and intimidating in golden armor. Golden eyes. A war that never ends.

  
He only wakes when he hears his name.

  
“Sam? Sam, wake up. Please, you gotta wake up,” Noah begs. Sam surges towards awareness- it takes a moment for his body to respond to his commands, but once it does he’s pulling Noah against him before he’s even managed to blink his eyes open.

  
“I’m here, Noah. I’m here,” he says. Finally, his eyes open, watering in the sunlight.

  
Sunlight? It had been nearly five in the evening. It was getting dark.

  
He remembers, then, the red light. The brakes. The breaking glass exploding around them.

  
He looks around.

  
Sam doesn’t recognize his surroundings. He’s in an alley somewhere, but it isn’t one he recognizes. Not that there’s many that he does recognize. The ground they’re on is white-tan stone. The buildings rising tall on either side of them are made of white-tan stone. The air smells…well, it is a smell he can’t pinpoint, but it isn’t a good one.

  
“What the fuck?” he whispers.

  
“I-I don’t know. I don’t know what happened, I just, I remember the car, and then you weren’t waking up, and I don’t know where we are and Sam I was so scared,” Noah sobs, arms wrapped around Sam’s neck. Sam makes soft, soothing sounds, hands rubbing circles on his back as he rocks back and forth. His eyes rove along the immediate area.

  
And there, around the corner in front of them, he sees a flash of red hair duck behind the stone.


	2. curiosity killed the cat

Malcolm Hawke gave his oldest daughter many things. The first was his hair- Leandra had often cooed over their daughter, red hair in pigtails as she ran through the fields behind their house. Later, she developed his magic, and while it was dangerous, it was the thing Malcolm most treasured sharing with her. She was a voracious learner- something she got from her mother. Malcolm had never been one to sit still and quiet for lessons (which was something he passed on to his oldest son, who was always jangling his leg or drumming his fingers and always staring off into space and thinking of things that better deserved his attention). There were many more things that Elena Hawke got from her father, but the only one to ever cause any problems was the overabundance of curiosity. Malcolm had never been able to resist poking his nose into something, trying to figure out what it was and what was going on. And that, of course, was how Elena ended up like this.

It had been a normal day. There hadn’t been anything special about it- working for Athenril meant that Elena had gotten home as dawn broke over the horizon and had slept until afternoon before voraciously devouring the meal her brothers had left behind. And there, sitting on the rickety table in Gamlen’s house, all alone save for her mabari, Barksie (who never left her side, save perhaps when she went with Lukas), she had felt it.

She didn’t know what it was, of course. Only that she felt something from the Fade, a horrible twisting sensation and something popping between her ears. Then she felt the pull- somewhere nearby in Lowtown, the Veil had suddenly gotten much thinner.

She sat there for a moment. She didn’t need to investigate. It was one of the days where she happened to wake early enough that she had the rest of the evening to herself- a rare occurrence since she began working for Athenril. Did she really want to spend it poking around with matters of the Fade? In Kirkwall? The Templars already eyed her suspiciously because she couldn’t bear to part with her father’s staff- she had spent years learning to fight with it without the use of magic, but she couldn’t deny it was an obvious link to her apostasy.

Ten minutes later she found herself crouching in a dirty Lowtown alleyway, back pressed against the wall and her heart hammering in her ears. She hadn’t known what she would find- demons, maybe? Those usually showed up where the veil was thin. But instead of a demon, she’d seen someone. Two someones, actually. Two boys in a heap on the ground. She’d watched as the younger one woke up, crying and shaking the other.

And she’d watched as he’d lifted his head. She was sure she’d ducked behind the wall too late and a moment later she knew it to be true. “Who’s there?” a voice called out. The older boy, probably. It would make the most sense. Already, she knew they weren’t just boys. They had been dressed strangely and they practically stank of the Fade. A few seconds ticked past, and Elena thought maybe she’d managed to avoid it.

And then she watched Barksie charged around the corner, tail wagging. “Barksie, no!” she hisses, but the dog is already gone. Elena stumbles after her, trying not to look guilty as she follows her dog to the boys. The younger one had let go of the older one, arms thrown around Barksie’s neck. The mabari didn’t usually tolerate hugs but she seemed just as happy as she could be in his arms, tail wagging as she panted. The boy giggled, looking up at the other one.

“Look, Sam. I think she likes me!” he says, sounding delighted.

“Yeah, buddy! You- you stay there,” the other boy- Sam- says, rising to his feet slowly. He creeps in front of the other boy, half poised as if he’s getting ready to run or fight. “Who are you?” he asks, eyes boring into hers, voice low. He reminded her, suddenly and inexplicably, of her brother.

“Elena Hawke! Pleased to meet you,” she says cheerfully, offering her hand for him to shake. He regards her warily, seconds slipping away, but hesitantly he reaches out and puts his hand in hers.

“Do you- do you know anything, Elena?” he asks, turning around to look at the other boy. She frowns, her forehead wrinkled. She had her suspicions, but none of them were more than that. And she was worried about the Templars. She couldn’t be caught anywhere near a sudden thinning of the Veil- between that and her staff, it would surely be enough to send her to the Gallows.

“No, but I have some theories. We shouldn’t stay here, though. It isn’t safe. If you’d come with me to my house?” she asks. Sam hesitates, watching the other boy who had begun to wrestle with Barksie. Elena tried not to feel jealous- her dog never wrestled with her anymore.

“Noah!” he calls out after a moment, eyes slipping back to Elena’s. There’s a threat and a promise intertwined in there and she finds herself dipping her head in acknowledgment. “Let’s go,” he says, a second later, voice softening as he turns back to Noah.

Elena whistles for Barksie. For a moment, she thinks the dog isn’t going to come, but then the mabari trots up to her side, looking incredibly pleased with herself. She rolls her eye at the dog, reaching down to scratch her behind her ears as Noah joins them.

“Right. Follow me. Stick close, Lowtown can be confusing to navigate,” she says, turning on her heel and walking away. She was worried, for a moment, that they wouldn’t follow. And then she heard the sounds of footsteps and smiled to herself.

* * *

Sam didn’t want to believe it. But sitting in the tiny two-room house in Lowtown, he couldn’t deny it. “So…we’re in another world?” he asks, one eyebrow raised. Noah was sitting in the floor at his feet, Barksie stretched out in his lap asleep.

“It would certainly seem so. I’m not sure what pulled you through the Fade, but I can practically smell it on you. It would have had to be something powerful, but there’s nothing like that around here…” she says, trailing off as she got lost in thought. Sam frowned- based on that, she’d be useless in getting them back home.

Before he could say anything else, the door banged open. A giant entered the room, or at least it seemed that way. Sam found himself inching his way in front of Noah once more.

“Elena? What kind of strays have you picked up this time?” the giant asks, propping his sword against the wall. The weapon was giant, nearly as tall as Sam himself was. He wondered if the man was compensating for something. But then, he figured if he were that tall, his greatsword would be massive too.

“The kind that came through the Fade from another world. Oh, don’t give me that look, Lukas. They’re human. Fully. No demon influence whatsoever, I checked. Thoroughly,” she says, getting up and melting against him in a hug. He grumbles but he wraps his arms around her, lifting her off the ground and squeezing. She groans dramatically, grinning up at him as he drops her back down. He ruffles his hair as he passes, headed into the other room.

“I’m letting you deal with it,” Lukas says. She pouts at his retreating form, but he’s already pulled the curtain between rooms shut. Moments later, Sam can hear the clinking of armor, presumably as he removes it.

“That was my brother, Lukas. Twin brother, actually. I have another brother, Carver. It’ll be a couple of days before he’s home- our…employer sent him on a longer job,” she explains, propping herself up against the wall and studying him.

“Look, that’s…I’m like a fish out of water here, Elena. I don’t know anything about where we are and I don’t think I’m mistaken in saying that you can’t help us get back home. So, shelving that idea for now…it doesn’t look like you guys are in any position to host us for long at all,” Sam says, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.

“Oh! No, you’re right on that. Do you want a job? I could try to get you on with Athenril. How do you fight?” she asks. She gets a blank stare for her trouble.

“We- we don’t. That’s not the kind of world we come from,” he explains. He glances down at his brother, something fierce and protective welling up. This might be the kind of world where people had to fight with swords and shields and mage staffs, but Sam would see to it that Noah was never one of them. Kid deserved better than that, especially after being dragged across dimensions. Which he was taking remarkably well, actually.

“Oh. Right. Well…I don’t think Athenril will take you on if she has to train you. Or she’d make your contract quite long to make it pay off. We’ve only got six months of ours left. And I do know someone that might help, but…I won’t be able to find out until after my contract’s up and I’m free. I’ve got a friend in the guards who could teach you to fight in the meantime, but to be honest with you, we’re barely keeping ourselves fed. If it weren’t for Lukas, Carver, and I getting several of our meals on the job, we wouldn’t be able to do that. I know Aveline’s not got much either,” she says, frowning. Sam tried to swallow back the mounting fear.

“There’s always the Blooming Rose,” Lukas says, pulling the curtain back. Sam swallowed- the man was wearing nothing but a pair of loose breeches. He was sure he’d never seen muscles like that. And he’d thought he was moderately fit. He could bench press Sammy on a good day. And yet he looked damn near frail compared to the other man.

“I don’t think the Blooming Rose is what he’s looking for,” Elena answers, picking at her bottom lip. Sam noticed then that they were chapped- likely from the way she picked at them, if it was any indication to a habit.

“Let me be the judge of that. What’s the Blooming Rose?” he asks. Lukas laughs and Sam turns his attention to him, one eyebrow raised.

“It’s a whorehouse,” the giant says, humor glittering in his eyes. Sam clapped his hands over Noah’s ears. His brother whined in response. Kid must have been really shaken up, not to try to fight him. Sam feels a little guilty for it.

“So, that doesn’t sound that bad and all that, but I’ve got a, uh, unique situation?” he says. Shit. What if this Thedas wasn’t like Earth? Or what if it was, in exactly all the wrong ways? He’d dealt with transphobia before. It wasn’t anything new. But he hadn’t been worried about getting killed, and right now in front of him was a woman who could make fire in her fists and throw it at him and a man with a fuck-off big sword. If they decided they didn’t like it then he was well and truly fucked.

It had been a long time since he’d felt this particular flavor of fear.

“Well, what is it?” Elena asks, voice gently encouraging. Sam swallows, looking down at his brother. If he doesn’t do this, then what are the alternatives? There probably aren’t many. This isn’t a world meant for them- Sam didn’t know the first thing about how to use a sword, other than that the pointy end went in the bad guy. And he didn’t want to be here any longer than he needed to be. Shit, if this was what it took, Sam was willing to spend all day on his knees in an alley to keep his brother safe and fed and clothed.

“I have a vagina. Full working plumbing and all that. Not exactly what people expect to find down there when they go to bed with a man,” he says. His voice doesn’t waver, and that’s a victory in itself. He stares them down, eyes flicking between them defiantly.

Elena’s the first to answer. “Oh. Well. That is unique, but…not unheard of. The Madame isn’t a cruel woman. I’ve been in there a few times. For business, of course, not pleasure. But…well, I can take you up there. You’ll probably be staying at the Rose. She’ll probably let Noah stay too, although…maybe he’d be better off spending his time with Aveline. She’s been getting stuck with the most boring patrols lately. I’m sure she’d let him tag along,” Elena says, brightly.

Sam practically deflates, defiance and fear leaving him in one big breath.

“Then take me to the Blooming Rose,” he says, taking his hands from his brother’s ears. Noah frowns up at him.

“I’ll take the kid to Aveline,” Lukas offers, ducking back inside the other room to pull on a linen shirt and his boots.

Sam and Sammy had spent years joking about becoming escorts or getting into porn. These jokes usually happened around the time classes got stressful, when they both had several papers due all at once and wondered how they’d manage to do it.

He just never thought it was something he’d actually do. Of course, he never thought he’d be in another world either. At least sex was something familiar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaand here's the hawke twins! 
> 
> thanks so much for reading! if you enjoyed it feel free to leave a comment down below- i try to respond to all of them. catch you later!


	3. under a paper moon

It took some time, but Sam settled into a routine easily enough. Lusine was easy to work with- she took Sam’s feedback into consideration when she was working on advertising him and together they managed to cobble something together. He had his own special category Lusine offered to customers- sometimes, some of his customers only came to him to talk. He had only taken a handful of psychology classes in college, but it was safe to say that Thedas didn’t really have anything like that as of yet. Of course, he was still a regular whore too. Not that he minded- sometimes, the sex was actually pretty fun. And even when it wasn’t, he didn’t come cheaply.

Lusine did deduct some of his pay for room and board, plus contraception potions (they tasted terrible, but Sam would rather deal with the bitter taste than worry about showing up back home several months pregnant). He still got more than he expected, nearly an entire sovereign for every customer. Most of it went towards Noah, admittedly. Sam didn’t need much. Lusine dressed him according to what the clients wanted. Which, he was proud to say, he’d already acquired some regulars. Two, to be exact. The first was an older woman in Hightown. She’d come to him after word of his other services began to spread- she really was a sweet older lady. Her name was Catherine. At first, she’d visit him once a week, but recently Lusine gave him leave to make house calls. For an increase in price, of course. Not that Catherine minded- she seemed to be in the upper classes of Kirkwall, with plenty of coin to spend and nobody to spend it on after her daughter had been taken by the Templars years ago. Her husband had passed recently and she didn’t count any of the other nobility amongst her friends. Sam was more than glad to play that role, especially since he was getting an entire sovereign for his time. Besides, she always made the best cookies, which she always had ready when he came for his weekly visits.

The second was a middle-aged merchant. He, too, only came to Sam for conversation. His name was Martin and recently he’d decided he wanted to branch out for profit. Mostly, he only came to Sam to bounce ideas off of him. Not the Sam minded- it was definitely easy to work to sit there and pretend to be interested. He saw Martin less frequently- every other week- but the man had recently left Kirkwall on a trip to Cumberland, assuring Sam he’d be back to visit him first thing to let him know how his newest venture worked out.

And then Lusine gave him two days off a week. Elena had introduced him to Aveline shortly after his arrival and ever since then, the guardswoman had begun to train him. Sam liked her well enough- she threw him around like a sack of potatoes and he was frequently so sore he could barely move after their sessions- but she let Noah follow her around on her safer patrols and his brother absolutely adored her. It distracted him from the fact that they were literally in another world.

He still had his phone. He’d tested it, ages ago, and found that his charger worked too. Elena could hold electricity in her hand and charge it. And it seemed like he had wi-fi, too. He wasn’t sure why, but he wasn’t going to question it. Elena, meanwhile, did. She came to the conclusion that it was probably the presence of magic that let it work, a mystery that Sam hadn’t needed solving but was glad it was solved anyway. Sammy was the only person he’d bothered to contact. He was afraid to contact his father, afraid Arturo would think it was a mean trick. He’d made Sammy swear not to tell him and so far it seemed she’d listened. He was just glad Noah’s phone hadn’t also journeyed through time and space with them.

She called him every night. Most of the time, she’d just ask him to tell her about his day. He could tell that she had usually been drinking, but he did it anyway. He knew what it was like to just want to hear someone’s voice. And it was kind of fun, too. 

* * *

Eldris Mahariel hated Sundermount. It was fine, at first, before the halla died. But then they did, and the rest of the Clan got anxious. Anxious enough to turn on Merrill. Anxious enough to get restless. Anxious enough to ask about Tamlen.

Most of the time, he spent his time by himself. Zevran had joined them briefly and been introduced to the clan, but he'd left again. He had a mission to hunt down the Crows and sometimes Eldris desperately wished he had joined him. Theo was kept busy with his duties as Second, Merrill was even busier and had grown distant, and Eden spent as much time away from the camp as she could. He knew it wouldn’t be long until she wondered into Kirkwall- the city was only three day’s travel from the mountain. He wondered if he should go with her or let her make her own mistakes.   
  
Sera missed Denerim. She spent a lot of her time with Eden- it made sense since she was an archer and Sera wanted to learn- but he thought it had something to do with the way they both wandered closer to Kirkwall. Not that he could blame them- life with the Dalish seemed almost hollow now. Nobody dared to tell him what to do, even though he was one of the youngest hunters in the clan. He didn't have a purpose. Tamlen was gone. Even though he was home, with his clan, with his family, he felt like he was alone. 

He ended up staying in his aravel. There was little to do- the other hunters brought back plenty of game to feed the clan and nobody ever asked him along. So he turned his focus on crafting. It wasn’t the same, felt almost empty and mechanical without Tamlen there, shoulders jostling as they laughed and joked. At least when Theo wasn’t busy he joined him.

Sometimes, he found himself at the base of the mountain, looking off towards the Wounded Coast. Towards the Waking Sea. On the other side, he knew, lay Fereldan. How desperately he wanted to go back. But then, he didn't really, did he? He'd had a purpose when he was in Fereldan. Before the Blight, he'd been working to become a full hunter. To get his vallaslin. To court Theo and Merrill properly in the eyes of the clan. And after Tamlen had disappeared, after Duncan had dragged him away, he'd had a purpose to save the world.   
  
Now, he had nothing to do and his bones ached with a restlessness that kept him on edge.  

* * *

Sam didn’t really have set hours working at the Blooming Rose, but it was clear whenever he was done for the night. So it was strange when Lusine approached him, nearly two hours after his so-called shift was over. “Everyone else is busy. There’s a new client, and he asked specifically about you. Offered to pay a lot, too,” she says, arms crossed over her chest as she paced back and forth in front of his bunk.

He understood her reluctance. Usually, clients of his were questioned, albeit loosely. To find out what they specifically wanted him for, to inform them about his status as trans, to make sure he’d be safe. Clearly, Lusine hadn’t had the time to do it.

“How much?” Sam asks, sitting up. He’d slid his phone under his blanket when he saw Lusine approaching him, cursing himself for having it out in the first place. He’d been waiting on Sammy to answer his message.

“Eight sovereigns,” she answers after a moment, pausing to look at him. “You’d get three.”

Three whole sovereigns. He’d been in the Hightown market the other day with Noah. He’d seen a dagger on display at one of the weapon stalls, but Sam didn’t have the coin to spare. With the extra three sovereigns? He’d still have some left over.

“All right. I’ll do it. Who’s the client?” he asks, swinging his legs off the side of the bed. He slips his phone into his pocket, hoping she didn’t notice. If she did, she never mentioned it.

“A Templar. He seems nervous. He wants the whole night with you,” she says. He can almost see the gears turning in her head.

“So, post a guard outside the room if you’re that worried. I’ll yell if I need help,” he says, standing up and stretching. Lusine frowns, eyes roving up and down him. It’s different than the way his clients look at him- Lusine is looking at him and trying to decide if the risk is worth the profit.

“Very well. Do make sure you yell if you need us. I’ll make sure the guard knows to be discreet. Now, about your outfit. He didn’t seem to want anything specific, and as nervous as he is…you might as well just stay in what you’re wearing. Keep it casual, and maybe you’ll keep him comfortable,” she says. Sam nods- it sounds like an easy enough job.

“All right, ‘s fine with me,” he says. Lusine nods, sighing. He supposed maybe he should be the reluctant one, but, well, he did trust the guards the Rose employed. And Aveline had trained him enough that Sam was sure he could at least manage to yell for help.

“I’ll get him in a room and I’ll send you up when he’s ready,” she tells him. She looks at him for a moment more before she leaves the room.

Sammy still hasn’t messaged Sam back. He sighs, sending her another message telling her he was on the clock for the rest of the night and settles in to wait.

He isn’t waiting long. He took a deep breath as he walked up the stairs, pausing with his hand on the doorknob. He met the eyes of the guard stationed nearby, leaning back against the wall. The guard nodded at him. Sam pushed open the door.

The Templar sat on the edge of the bed, looking around the room. Lusine was right- the man was nervous and Sam could tell it from where he stood. The man hadn’t noticed him enter but he jumped when the door shut. Sam stood there for a moment, the two of them taking each other in.

The Templar was pretty enough, Sam supposed. He was blonde. His hair was curly and unkempt. He had dark circles under his eyes. Sam could tell he was strong- he wondered, idly, what the man was hiding under his shirt. He realizes quickly enough that he’s going to have to be the one to break the silence.

“Hey. You want to tell me your name? What you’re here for, maybe?” he asks, stepping into the room. He sits down in a chair across from the bed- he had a feeling if he’d sat next to the man on the bed his client might well bolt.

“I-I’m Cullen. The Madame told me your name was Sam?” he says, like it’s a question. Sam nods, unlacing his boots and leaving them beside the chair he’s in.

“That’s right, Cullen. It’s nice to meet you. Lusine told me you’ve paid a lot for it,” he says, curiosity seeping into his voice. Why pay so much when he was so nervous?

“Right. Yes. I heard about your…other services. From a friend. Colleague, really. I was hoping that maybe you could help me?” he tells him, eyes falling to the floor. Slowly, Sam rises from his chair. Cullen’s eyes snap to him and grow wider when Sam walks closer.

“What kind of help do you need?” he asks, stopping in front of him. Cullen swallows, hard.

“I…I’m sure you know I’m a Templar? I serve Meredith as the Knight Captain. But before that, I was stationed in Kinloch. During the Blight. I-I was there, when the Circle was…overrun. And….I’ve been having trouble sleeping. The demons are gone, but it still haunts me,” he admits, hands clenching the edge of the bed. He won’t meet Sam’s eyes, just looks off beside him. Sam swallows- this is the Knight Captain. Elena and Lukas had told him about the Templars. He was sure their side of it was biased, since Elena was an apostate, but he knew there was fact in there too.

Slowly, experimentally, Sam reaches out and puts a hand on his shoulder. Cullen tenses, drawing in a breath, but after a second he relaxes again. Sam crawls into his lap, knees on either side of his hips. Cullen’s hands come to his sides to steady him instinctively as Sam drapes his arms across his shoulders. He doesn’t seem overly uncomfortable with the contact. Sam tries not to get distracted by the feeling of the muscles under his hands- the man could definitely snap him like a twig.

“I’m not going to push you to tell me about Kinloch. And excuse me for being brutally honest here, Cullen, but you look like you need to relax. Now, there’s the….obvious way of doing that. We’re in a brothel, I’m sure you can make that connection. But…I’m good with my hands. And I bet you’ve got lots of knots in your muscles,” he says, leaning back. Cullen’s hands shift higher, almost like he’s afraid Sam’s going to fall backwards off the bed. Sam didn’t think he was ready for sex, but he wanted to remind him it was on the table. He knew, though, that if Cullen was uncomfortable then he wouldn’t be able to help him.

“I-I was just going to ask you to- to spend the night with me,” he says, like a confession. Sam smiles, reaching up to run his fingers through his hair. Cullen looks like he wants to melt into the touch- Sam figures damn near every Templar would have to be touch-starved. According to Elena and Lukas, they didn’t seem like the touchiest bunch. He knew what that was like. 

“If that’s what you want, sure. But I think you could benefit from some relaxation. There are other ways to do it, of course. Breathing exercises, distractions. But I don’t think you’ll sleep well if you try to go to sleep like this,” he says, running his hands down his back. Cullen wavers and Sam thinks maybe he does have this one figured out.

Cullen’s quiet for a minute and Sam starts to reevaluate his earlier assessment. “I don’t- I think I’d rather do something else,” he says, apologetically.

And then Sam gets an idea. It’s a terrible idea, really. Especially when he’s in bed with a Templar. But for some reason, his mouth won’t get the message from his brain to shut up, and he says it anyway. “I’ve got something else, if you can keep a secret,” he says.

Cullen tilts his head. “What kind of secret?” he asks.

Sam shrugs. “It’s…a machine. That plays music. Strange music, to you, but…it’s helped me relax before,” he says. He eases off of Cullen’s lap, going around to the candles on the wall and blowing them out. It leaves only the candles on the tables by the head of the bed.

“Get ready for bed. Lay down. Get comfortable,” he says. Cullen eyes him suspiciously, but does as he asks, taking his boots off and tucking them under the edge of the bed. His breeches follow, leaving him in his smalls and his shirt. He hesitates before he lays down, but he listens, turning his head to watch Sam.

There are messages from Sammy on his phone screen, but he ignores them. He angles himself so Cullen can’t really see what he’s doing, and after a moment music fills the room. He’s got a whole playlist of slow and soft songs- he couldn’t go to sleep without sound back home. Kirkwall had taught him how. He lays the phone on the end table, knowing it’s eating battery, but this is as much for him as it is Cullen. He blows out his candle- the only light left in the room comes from the candle on Cullen’s side of the bed.

“What- what is this?” Cullen asks. Sam hesitates, before he unlaces his breeches and leaves them in a pile on the floor. He climbs into the bed with Cullen, pulling the blankets over them both.

“Music, like I said. Just…close your eyes, and listen to the songs. It’s always helped me sleep. It’s on a timer- it’ll go off in an hour and a half,” he says. Cullen nods, leaning up to blow out the candles. Darkness engulfs the room. It takes some time for Sam’s eyes to adjust, but when they do he looks over and takes in Cullen’s profile.

The man’s asleep before a half hour is up. Poor man must have been exhausted. Sam stays awake, not ready to sleep yet.

It’s a good thing he did. Cullen starts to twitch in his sleep, mumbling something under his breath. Sam shifts closer, until he’s pressed up against his side. Cullen quiets and stills.

Sam falls asleep like that, curled up against his side, his head on his chest. And damn if the bed in here isn’t more comfortable than his bunk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow, double update! sure wasn't expecting that! anyway, i hope you enjoyed this chapter. i was hesitant about bringing cullen in so early but these guys do what they want.
> 
> as always, thank you for reading! if you enjoyed, feel free to leave a comment down below. i try to respond to all of them


	4. that's what brothers do

Cullen leaves in the early hours of the morning when the sun has just started to shine the first weak dawn rays of the day. Sam, of course, is woken up by it- sometime during the night the templar had ended up sprawled out directly on top of him. He found himself missing the weight and the warmth as soon as it was gone, blearily raising himself onto one elbow as he looked at Cullen.

“Sorry, I, um, I have to go. I’m expected back at the Gallows,” he says, biting his bottom lip as he watches Sam.

“Oh, okay. Have a good day at work, I guess?” Sam replies, voice rough from sleep. Cullen gives him a small smile, his hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck.

“You- you too, Sam,” he says, before awkwardly ducking out the door. Sam flops back down onto the bed, sprawled out on the mattress. He doubts Lusine would be too angry with him for staying in the bed. He was good enough at lying that he could probably convince her Cullen had slipped out without waking him. But after several long moments spent staring at the ceiling, watching the room get lighter and lighter as dawn crept closer, Sam realized that he wasn’t going to be falling asleep after all. With a sigh, he heaves himself out of the bed, collecting his phone from the nightstand.

He realizes, suddenly, that it had been a terrible decision to use it in front of Cullen. He wasn’t just a Templar- he was the Knight Captain. If anything could bite Sam in the ass, it’d be that. He could feel panic settle like a stone in the pit of his stomach before he squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. Telling on Sam and his strange technology would mean admitting that he’d gone to visit a whore in the brothel. He had to be smart enough to know that Sam would also rat out how much he spent just to see him specifically. He had to hope that’d be enough to keep Cullen’s mouth shut.

With a sigh, he slides his phone into his pocket and leaves the Blooming Rose for a morning training session with Aveline. 

* * *

Aveline did not go easy on him. By the time she let Sam leave, the sun was high in the sky, his stomach was rumbling, his body ached, and he was covered in sweat. Though the floor of the training room they used had been soft compared to everything else, his shoulders still hurt from how many times he’d been slammed down onto it. Overall, though, he’d learned a lot. Aveline was quietly impressed at his dogged progress. Sam didn’t tell her it was because he needed to be able to keep Noah safe, but he suspected she knew anyway.

Sam stopped by the Blooming Rose for breakfast and the payment due from the previous night. Lusine passed it over with a smile, telling him to be back around noon to get back to work. She had another new client in mind for him, which piqued his interest, but she stayed tight-lipped about it no matter how much he asked. Eventually, he wandered out of the Rose, his coin pouch much fuller than it had been in a long time.

The first thing he did was stop by the market and buy the dagger he’d been eying the previous day, sliding it into his boot. It felt strange, walking around with a knife in his shoe. He almost felt like there was an illuminated neon sign telling the world he was carrying a weapon, but nobody even spared him a second glance.

He wondered how Lukas managed to walk around Kirkwall with a fuck-off big sword strapped to his back. 

* * *

Noah was ecstatic to see Sam. Leandra wasn’t that pleased to see him- Sam didn’t know if it was because he was a whore by trade or if it was because he was the reason they had another mouth to feed. Or maybe she was mad that Noah was there instead of her now-deceased daughter Bethany. Either way, the look she gave him as he ushered Noah out of Gamlen’s house was frosty enough that Sam had to bite his tongue.

“Did you eat yet, bud?” Sam asks, affectionately ruffling Noah’s hair. He doesn’t even push his hand away, another reminder that the kid was having a harder time adjusting to Kirkwall and Thedas than he was letting on.

“No, but Elena said that there was another tavern here in Lowtown aside from The Hanged Man that served good food. She mostly just talked about the bartender, though,” he says, wrinkling his nose. Sam laughs, slinging his arm around Noah’s shoulders and pulling him closer.

“What’s this place called? We’ll swing by there and see what they have to offer. I don’t have to be back at the Rose until noon,” he says, a soft smile on his face as Noah tucked himself up against his side.

“Uh…the Wayward Warden, I think? Like I said, she mostly talked about the bartender. She reminded me a lot of Sammy,” he says, grinning.

“Ah, so it was a lot of dreamy sighs and vaguely inappropriate comments?” Sam asks, trying to pretend it didn’t hurt to think about Sammy. It was Friday- usually, they’d skip their last class because the teacher didn’t give a shit about attendance. They’d leave early and go get McDonald’s until Noah was out of school. They’d swing by and pick him up. Usually, they’d head to the park and let Noah do his own thing while they smoked cigarettes and worked on any homework they had to do. Once Dad got off work they’d drop Noah off before heading back to Asheville. Usually, they’d go on an alcohol run before going back to Sammy’s. They’d put on a movie and drink and usually, they’d start fucking halfway through and Sam misses her so suddenly that it hurts to breathe.

Later, he’ll blame himself for being distracted. One moment he’s thinking about Sammy and the next he’s getting shoved away from Noah in the alley they’d cut into. He slams against the wall, the breath knocked out of him, and by the time he can focus on what’s going on he notices some Lowtown thug has Noah pinned to the wall, his feet dangling off the ground, eyes wide and terrified as he looks at Sam over his shoulder.

Sam doesn’t think, he acts. He surges forward, slamming into the man and knocking him away from Noah. “Run! Find somebody, get somewhere safe!” he barks, Noah pelting away just as the man slams a fist into Sam’s face. He staggers back, dazed, and he notices the knife in the man’s hand a little too late. He swears, jerking back, but the blade sinks into his leg with white-hot pain. He howls, shoving the thug away and ripping the knife out of his leg. He scrambles for the dagger from his boot, taking the handle in a shaking hand. It feels strange and foreign in his hand- Aveline hadn’t moved on to teaching him weapons yet.

But she had taught him basic stances and defensive maneuvers and Sam drops into a fighting stance as the man rushes him again. He stinks of sweat and desperation as Sam grabs his wrist, pushing the hand with the knife away from him. He isn’t sure how it happens but he ends up backed up against the wall again, feet scrabbling for purchase, and he knows if he doesn’t end the fight quickly he’s going to die.

Time seems to slow down, his world narrowing to the knife in his hand and the opening the man had foolish left on his left side. He watches his hand like it isn’t his as he shoves the knife in between the man’s ribs, time speeding back up again as he feels blood, hot and wet, gushing over his hand and down his arm. He yanks the knife out, staggering backward, and watches as the man slides to the floor, his hand coming up to touch the wound on his side. He looks confusedly at Sam as he collapses, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

Sam leans against the wall, fumbling to put pressure on the wound on his leg without dropping the knife. He clings to it like a lifeline, terrified. His heart rushes in his ears, nearly drowning out all sound, so he doesn’t realize someone is there until he’s standing in front of him, patting his face. Sam’s eyes cross before focusing, the bright silver cuirass making him blink as he looks up into Cullen’s face.

“What?” he asks. His tongue feels thick and heavy in his mouth and it is only when Cullen gently pries the knife out of his hand that he realizes he’s shaking. “Cullen?” he tries again, his brain unable to piece together why the Templar who shared a bed with him last night was here in a Lowtown alley.

“I was in the Lowtown market. A boy ran up to me, told me his brother was in trouble and where to find you. I sent him home. I-I almost didn’t come. I thought it was a trap,” he says, lifting Sam into his arms effortlessly, a grim set to his lips. Sam finds his eyes drawn to those lips- they’re nice lips. He wonders what it’d feel like to kiss them. “I’ve heard tales of a healer in Darktown. I’d wager she won’t be pleased with a Templar showing up on her doorstep, but she’s never been known to turn anyone away,” he says, voice soft and soothing. With a start, Sam realizes they’re moving. How had he not realized they’d left the alley?

“Cullen,” he says again, but he isn’t sure what he wants to say. The Templar looks down at him, brows furrowing, but his feet don’t stop moving as he dodges citizens of Lowtown and twines through crooked and narrow alleyways.

“Sam, is this…have you ever…this is your first time fighting like that, isn’t it?” he asks, his voice soft with a sudden, terrible understanding. Sam shivers, swallowing hard, and tries to focus on putting pressure on the bleeding wound on his thigh. It didn’t hurt anymore. Why didn’t it hurt anymore?

“Y-yeah. But I’d do it all over again. A thousand times. If it meant that it would keep Noah safe,” he says, and oh, but he wishes he could pay attention to where they were going. It slips away from him like grains of sand through his fingers but he knows it’d be useful to know the location of a healer. What if Noah needed one, and Sam didn’t know where to go?

“You-you did good. You kept him safe. Now I’m going to keep you safe,” Cullen says, holding Sam just a little tighter as he speeds up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in case you didn't know, the bartender elena wouldn't shut up about is @jennserr's valentina ledoux. poor literally every other member of the hawke family for having to listen to her 
> 
> as always, thanks so much for reading! if you enjoyed it, feel free to leave a comment down below, i try to respond to them all and even if i don't i definitely appreciate it


	5. suspicious minds

Sam drifts during the journey to Darktown. It was the only part of Kirkwall he’d yet to visit and during his brief stints of awareness, he begins to understand why. Lukas had warned him away from it and it wasn’t that Sam was listening to the giant. He just had other things to do that kept him too busy to poke around the seedy underbelly of Kirkwall.

Of course, now that it was here, it didn’t seem so seedy. The whole place of it reeked with desperation- or was that Cullen? Because no matter how much pressure Sam put on the wound in his thigh, fresh blood still trickled out over his fingers. Somehow, all he could think was that it was going to be one hell of a time trying to scrub it off.

That, and his shorts were ruined. He loved those stupid fucking shorts. He’d gotten them on clearance at Wal-Mart years ago and they’d held up remarkably well and he had so many stupid fucking memories attached to them and beyond that they were comfortable.

And now there was a massive hole in the leg of them and he’d never be able to get all the blood out of them.

“We’re here,” Cullen breathes, holding him just a little tighter, and Sam blinks, eyes refocusing on the world around them. Right. He’d drifted out of it again. He increases the pressure on his leg, his panic a distant thing. It didn’t feel like his. Of course, the leg didn’t either. Neither did the hands pressing against it.

Cullen shifts his grip, looking up at the dull lantern above the door. It’s lit, but the glass is so dingy and dirty it gives off little light. All it’s good for is a symbol. An open sign, shining dimly in the worst part of the whole fucking city. With a shaky exhale, the templar opens the door.

Sam isn’t sure what happens, only that as soon as they step inside the hovel there’s a bright blue light surrounding them. It hurts to look at, so he closes his eyes.

“What are you doing here, templar?” a voice snarls. It’d almost be musical if it weren’t for the sharp cold edge of anger underneath. Still, whoever it is sounds nice. And then, a beat later. “Cullen?”

Sam half expected the light to fade away, but if anything it got brighter. He shut his eyes tighter, letting out a soft noise of complaint.

“I’m only here because he needs help, Echo. I didn’t know it’d be you and quite frankly I don’t care about anything between us. He’s- I don’t know how much blood he’s lost, but it’s been a lot. And he- it was his first- he had never-” he says, fumbling on the last part of that sentence.

Suddenly, finally, the blue light around them fades away. “Get him over here. And get those….whatever they are off of him,” the voice answers, shifting into something authoritative. Well, whoever this Echo woman was, it sure sounded like she had her shit together. That was probably good, right?

Sam forgets to open his eyes until he feels Cullen putting him down. It feels like a table, hard and flat and not at all comfortable. He forces his eyes open, panic surging up when he feels the arms around him retreating. He fumbles, grabbing his hand before he can pull away and clinging. He doesn’t even realize that he’d stopped putting pressure on the injury until he looks down and sees small, pale hands there instead.

“I’m here, I’m here. Echo’s a good mage. A good healer. She’ll get you fixed up,” Cullen murmurs, softly and soothingly into his ear, his other arm shifting around him.

He doesn’t realize at first it’s just to hold him still and steady so Echo can work.

“It didn’t nick an artery, you’re lucky there. It’s just…very deep. I’ll do the best that I can but there’ll be some scarring and your leg might be stiff and sore for the next few days,” she tells him, speaking slowly and clearly. And then, her hands light up.

It’s not at all like the harsh brightness of whatever spell she’d used before. It’s a warm, soft gold, enveloping him. It feels like home. Like sheets or blankets fresh out of the dryer and still warm, wrapped around bare skin. It feels like crawling into his father’s bed when he was a child, two strong arms wrapping around him and promising to keep at bay any of the creatures from his nightmares. It feels like the knowledge that Noah is safe and sound somewhere back in Lowtown. Maybe Leandra would put aside her resentment long enough to help him. He was a child, after all, and Leandra was a mother. 

It is the first time he’d ever been healed by magic. The first time he’d really had any interaction with magic, actually. There were a few enchanted toys he’d been shown back at the Rose- not that he’d gotten to play with them with any clients yet- but that wasn’t true and proper magic. Not like this. Distantly, he watched as Echo gently wove her magic into his skin and flesh and sinew. His body started to stitch back together, her brow furrowed in deep concentration, Cullen’s arms still wrapped around him.

And then all that was left was a jagged and angry red scar underneath all the blood. The magic dimmed and dulled before drawing back entirely and Echo backed away to sag against another table. She looked terribly pale- regardless of how it had felt for him, it must have taken a lot out of her.

“Make yourself useful, Cullen, and get him cleaned up. There are water basins and rags over there. I need a moment,” Echo says, wiping her forehead on her sleeve. Cullen hesitated a moment, arms still around Sam, before slowly withdrawing. Sam didn’t panic, this time. Instead, he watched him go, a hand reaching into the pouch at his waist and producing a small vial full of liquid. The contents glowed a beautiful, ethereal blue.

“Here,” he says, holding it out to Echo. She regards him warily, eyes narrowed but focused on the potion.

“Why are you giving me lyrium? I’m an apostate mage,” she said, voice flat and tired.

“Healing like that takes a lot of out of a mage. I know, I saw it at Kinloch. Here, Echo. I won’t…I owe you, for this, so I’ll give you the potion and I won’t tell the Knight-Commander anything about it,” he says, shaking the potion just a little. Echo’s hand reaches out and snatches it, shaking just a little as she pulls out the stopper.

“You better keep your promise, Knight-Captain. Or I’ll make sure you go down with me,” she says, voice cold and hard again as she tips her head back and drains the potion. Sam thinks, distantly, that it would taste like blue raspberry. Like those freeze pops his father had always kept in the freezer. He’d eaten a ton of them when he’d gotten his wisdom teeth removed. Blue raspberry had always tasted a little bit like blood after that.

Echo drifts away to another part of the clinic, behind a sheet hung up. To recover or tend to another patient, Sam had no idea, but Cullen was here to take care of him. He carried a basin full of water over to him, dipping an old but clean rag into it and gently dabbing at the crusted blood on his leg. After a moment, Sam frowned in concentration and stuck his bloody hands into the basin, scrubbing at the drying blood. Easier to get it off before it dried completely, he knew.

He blinks and finds that Cullen has gently taken his hands out of the bucket and dried them on another rag. Echo had come back out, clothes bundled in her arms, and his arms and hands and legs were all clean now.

Why was he still drifting, if the danger was over?

“I’ll take the water outside and dump it,” Cullen says, already picking up the basin.

“Yes, thank you. There’s a pump outside as well, cleanest water in Darktown. Fill it back up, would you?” she asks and he nods as he slips out of the door. How he moves so quietly in so much armor, Sam would never know.

“Listen. I never make it a habit of charging for my work, but I need help. Whoever you are, the Knight-Captain seems to like you. To trust you. I have a friend, in the Gallows. It’ll take some time yet, but with your help, I’m sure I could free him,” she says, gingerly reaching out and helping Sam out of his shirt.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll help. Just- just send word when you need me,” he says, his tongue thick and heavy in his mouth. He thinks he could use some of that water that Cullen was supposed to be bringing back.

“Good. Thank you. You- it means a lot. And whatever you do, don’t tell him. He helped today but I’m sure his charity won’t extend far. The last time I saw him he was calling for the Rite of Annulment,” she says, her eyes cold and hard, but her voice and her posture doesn’t give anything away as she slowly starts to help him dress. Sam doesn’t know what the Rite of Annulment is, but he’s too tired to find out. Maybe later he can ask Elena or Cullen or one of the girls in the Rose.

Cullen comes back inside just in time to hold him steady while Echo helps him into the breeches. They’re a little too big, but she makes a belt out of a length of rope and for all that it feels strange it should be enough to keep them up.

“My- my stuff. Where’s-?” he asks, but Cullen’s there, pressing his phone and coin purse into his hand. His dagger is presented to him moments later, hilt-first, and Sam finally feels like he can breathe again.

Thankfully, the breeches have pockets, and Sam stuffs his belongings into them. Except for the knife, of course. That goes back into his boot.

“There, all good to go. Now, take care, and be sure to get some rest,” Echo says, a faint smile on her face. It doesn’t reach her eyes, though, and Sam’s aware enough now to take note of how tense she is. Of how she seems to lean away from the templar at his side.

“I’ll escort you back to the Rose,” Cullen says, one arm coming around Sam’s waist to guide him out and keep him steady.

“Wait, the Rose? The Madame there ordered some potions. Could you deliver them for me? And keep the bag, I don’t need it. Just tell her it’s from the clinic,” Echo asks, darting away to pick up a knapsack from beside the door. Bottles clink delicately together inside as she holds it out. Sam takes it, sliding his arms into the straps until the sack rests on his back.

It was more than he’d had earlier that day.

“Let’s get you home,” Cullen says, kindly, and Sam stifles his laughter. That would take a lot more work than an exhausted walk through the city. Not that Cullen knew. Not that he could know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey everybody! thanks as always for reading. if you enjoyed it, feel free to leave kudos or comments down below. i try to respond to every comment i get, even if i'm a little late on that. thanks again for reading and i hoped you liked it!


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